


Tra'Kemiise

by Triscribe



Series: Vod'e An [2]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: 'cause that's what this is, Brothers, Clone Trooper Culture (Star Wars), Fluff and Angst, Minor Character Death, Platonic Relationships, Rebellion, Slave Trade, Tatooine (Star Wars), Tatooine Slave Culture, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, really need a tag for slave uprising
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26470642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triscribe/pseuds/Triscribe
Summary: Further down the hall, Shmi could see the dark and sandy heads of Kitster and Anakin sitting within a circle of Jesse’s brothers, laughing as they shared food and stories alike. “And thank you for this, as well.”Unlike others she’d thanked throughout the night, who simply shrugged it off with brief comments about 'being in the right place at the right time', Jesse went quiet.“...we followed a man named Skywalker,” he eventually said. “Before, before something went wrong. And we wound up here.”
Series: Vod'e An [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1924327
Comments: 72
Kudos: 862





	1. Projor Nari

**Author's Note:**

> (Quick Warning, for something I wasn't sure how to put in the tags without scaring people off from the whole fic - there is one vague scene with implied sexual slavery, but nothing actually happens, and the most description I put in is just a clone trooper offering to help a girl put her clothes back on. If that's still too much for you, I totally get it, just skip the third section, which comes after Threepio's point of view.)

Shmi frowned.

Her son’s trips to the junkyard had a tendency to stretch longer than anticipated, but Anakin rarely ran more than half an hour late - especially on days when they both knew Watto to be in a foul mood. And yet, no small shadow slipped through the door, and the afternoon light was beginning to fade into evening. Soon enough, the time would come to close up shop and lock away the more valuable items Watto didn’t like leaving around at night. If Ani _still_ hadn’t returned by then, the Toydarian would surely notice.

Shmi didn’t let herself think of what might happen if he did.

She kept one eye on the door as she polished bits of sand out of a set of capacitors, and both ears tuned towards Watto’s mumbles as he counted credits. They’d done a decent amount of business that morning, until the heat of the twin suns at noon drove everyone indoors, and the slowness of early afternoon gave Ani an opportunity to run off to the junkyard for a scavenging run. Typical, for the mid-week. If they held to the usual patterns, a couple more customers might appear before the day came to a close, usually locals looking to haggle down Watto’s prices on any items he’d had sitting around a while. When he got tired of exchanging offers with increasingly small changes in credit amounts, the Toydarian would accept their deals or not, toss them out, and declare the shop to be closing for the day.

So Shmi felt her surprise at seeing a group of strangers come through the entrance to be completely justified.

They looked... oddly similar, the four of them. One had long hair bound up in a bun, a single teardrop tattoo under his right eye. Another was bald, with several lines and dots marking his face. The third’s hair had intricate designs shorn into it, revealing Aurebesh tattoos Shmi couldn’t read. And the fourth, leading the others inside, looked the grimmest, with numerous small marks forming a V shape down the side of his face. They each had canvas scrap ponchos draped over simple black bodysuits, but Shmi’s eyes narrowed when she didn’t spot anything in the way of pockets or money pouches.

Watto looked up as the lead man halted in front of his countertop, and instantly put on a welcoming grin. “Welcome, my friends, welcome! What can I interest you in today?”

“Watto of Toydaria,” the man began in a stern tone, “You are under arrest for the crime of holding ownership of other sentient beings, in direct violation of the Galactic Republic’s mandates.”

Utter bafflement caused the small alien to freeze - a shadow moved behind him. Before Shmi could make a sound, another man stepped up behind her owner, caught his head, and twisted it with a brief _snap._ Watto died with the confusion still obvious on his face.

Shmi didn’t dare move, not even as the men promptly dispersed around the shop, two of them turning in her direction. She couldn’t help but stare at the body dropped carelessly to the floor, wings still and neck twisted. Her mind couldn’t decide whether to be upset or glad, the two emotions cancelling each other out.

“Ma’am? Lady Skywalker?” A figure crouched in front of her, and Shmi found herself looking into the face of the man with the teardrop tattoo. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” she replied faintly.

“We aren’t going to hurt you, but we need to move quickly. Do you know where he kept the detonators for your slave chips?”

Shmi blinked at him, repeatedly, trying to process that statement. “...why?”

“Because until I can get those chips out of you and your son, it would be best if you kept the detonators with you at all times,” the other man standing beside her said. She glanced up at him, and he smiled. “My name is Kix, ma’am, I’m a medic. This is Tup, and that’s Jesse, and Dogma, and Hardcase.”

One deep breath after another. “You know where Anakin is?”

“Yes ma’am, he’s still at the junkyard with more of our brothers. They’ll keep him safe until we can regroup and plan our next move.”

_Next move._

Taking her deepest breath yet, Shmi stood, and strode past the men towards Watto’s body. She took off the belt slung around his wide middle, in order to open and up-end each attached pouch. Credit chit, death sticks, taser, pen light- two small boxes clattered to the table, and she scooped them up with one hand. A wave of dizziness swept over her, forcing Shmi to brace herself against the counter. Each of the strangers paused, watching her closely.

After a few moments, the woman straightened up, and looked to the fifth man who’d snapped her former master’s neck. He too was bald, but with a wheel of some sort tattooed over his head and half his face. His eyes gazed back with steely understanding, and Shmi suddenly realized he Knew the emotions currently threatening to overwhelm her: the feeling of being, for the first time, _free._ And right behind it, the vow to _never_ let another place chains on her again.

“How many brothers do you have?” She asked.

“Almost four dozen,” the man answered. “We all have hand to hand combat training, some better than others, and we’re trained with a variety of blasters and other weapons. We’ve got some splicers, a few pilots, and a couple of engineers too.”

Shmi felt something shiver inside her. “Are you a mercenary band?”

“Not really, though it’s close enough.”

“But you _are_ capable of killing quite a few more slave owners tonight?”

His gaze sharpened. “Yes ma’am, that’s the plan. I had a feeling you’ll be able to help us out.”

Tightening her grip on the detonator boxes, Shmi gave him a firm nod. “Keep my son safe, and I’ll do more than help.”

-Vod’e-

“Threepio, wake up!”

Circuits coming online with a beep, C-3PO powered up his photoreceptors, and took in the face of his Maker beaming in delight. “Why, Master Ani! You certainly look to be in an excellent mood-”

“Better than that, Threepio! We’re free!”

The droid pulled his head back. “I beg your pardon?” A deep chuckle caused him to scan the rest of the room in surprise.

“What the kid says, shiny,” an unknown human grinned, approaching them with a wide box held in his arms. “There’s been a change in regulations around here, and we’re getting everyone together to swap the bunking arrangements.”

Baffled, C-3PO nonetheless went along as his Maker and the newcomer got his various components settled in the box, and then carried him out of the room and house entirely. Outside, torches and a few glowsticks dominated the night, offering just enough illumination for lines of people to shuffle out of the rows of duracrete buildings, guided by the occasional human in a black bodysuit, all headed towards a singular destination towards the center of the settlement.

“My goodness!” C-3PO couldn’t help but exclaim. “This seems to be quite the event!”

“It sure is!” Anakin’s smile grew, impossibly, even wider. “Hevy and his brothers all showed up this afternoon- er, yesterday afternoon by now, I guess, and they’ve already taken out all of the lower level masters, and a bunch of them are cleaning up inside Gardulla’s palace right now with Mom, and we’re all gonna go in too and set the defenses back up and we won’t be slaves anymore!” A shout drew Anakin’s attention off to the side, and he waved at the other small boy who came running over in their direction, followed by another man who looked nearly identical to the one carrying C-3PO’s box.

Quick introductions were passed around, and then Anakin began running through his explanation again for Kitster’s benefit, whereas the two men held a conversation C-3PO couldn’t help but listen to, seeing as it took place directly behind his audial receptors.

“Your squirt giving you any trouble, Cutup?”

“Aside from having me chase after him all over the kriffin’ place, you mean? Guess I can’t really blame him, though, the adiik just wants to check on all his friends.”

“Well, maybe he’ll stick with this one, and we’ll be able to keep ‘em both out of trouble. Two ought to be easier to manage than one, right?”

“You say that as if we _haven’t_ watched Echo and Fives lead three separate charges straight at the enemy tonight...”

-Vod’e-

The blaster fire had started right after Master Mashu’gin pulled her into his bedroom, and when he left to yell at those responsible, she couldn’t do anything but curl up in the corner and wait for his return. She _knew_ what happened if the girl he picked for a night tried to escape or fight back, and she couldn’t- she didn’t _dare-_

Except Mashu’gin never did come back. Instead, a young man poked his head in the bedroom door, and saw her in the corner. He kept his blaster lowered, stayed crouched in the center of the floor, well out of arm’s reach. He talked quietly, slowly, about his brothers removing all the Masters, about Shmi Skywalker and Massey Nearnan and old Ku’theki showing them the back ways into buildings, the secret handholds going up to rooftops with unlocked hatches. He said they were retrieving each slave’s detonator, and handing them out to the right people, and gathering everyone together in the palace to be safe.

He said she could be free, if she wanted.

She stared as he spoke, and when he stopped, she started to cry. “Y-yes. Yes, I want to.”

“Okay, then. Can I help you up? Are these your clothes?”

She let him pull her gently upright, and situate the gritty shift and tunic back over her bare skin. Then she latched onto his arm, and didn’t let go as they left the bedroom, walked down the stairs, and went out the front door right over Mashu’gin’s cooling corpse.

-Vod’e-

“It’s only enough for three weeks of Gardulla’s feasts,” Ku’theki rasped, pushing open the storeroom door for the two humans behind him to see. “But I reckon we could make it last a bit longer, with some planning.”

“Are you _kidding?”_ One of the boys gaped at the stacks of provisions, a fairly even mix of fresh and preserved, the occasional crate of synthetic goods mixed in. “I mean, I’ll need the exact numbers, but this is _easily_ as much as the main food hold as the Resolute-”

“Most of it will spoil faster, vod,” the other one cut in. “And it’s not actually going to be as much as what could fit in the hold, since we aren’t dealing with compact nutri-bars.”

_“Still!_ We will _definitely_ have enough for the next couple months, Ku’theki, don’t worry.”

He chuckled, a deep, grating noise that sounded like duracrete slabs scraping together. “Good to know. Now, down this way is the water storage...”

-Vod’e-

Shmi smiled.

Down the length of the palace’s main hall, her people laughed and cried and danced and ate. No one remained to tell them they couldn’t, to order them to stand quietly along the walls and watch as those of wealth and power gorged themselves. No more threats, no more whips, _no more chains._

“Not bad for a night’s work,” Jesse said, coming to stand beside her with a plate of dried fruit slices. “Want some?”

“I do, thank you.” Shmi selected a few pieces, and savored them slowly, one by one. Further down the hall, she could see the dark and sandy heads of Kitster and Anakin sitting within a circle of Jesse’s brothers, laughing as they shared food and stories alike. “And thank you for this, as well.”

Unlike others she’d thanked throughout the night, who simply shrugged it off with brief comments about 'being in the right place at the right time', Jesse went quiet. Shmi glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

“...we followed a man named Skywalker,” he eventually said. “Before, before something went wrong. And we wound up here.”

Shmi remained still, waiting for him to go on.

“I’m not supposed to be in charge, y’know. But, I’m the highest ranked, at the moment. One of the oldest, now, too. Our general and commander are gone, and our captain didn’t show up here with the rest of us.” He paused, watching the group that included her son. “When your Anakin found us in that junkyard, it- it seemed like a sign. Something we couldn’t ignore. And when he told us about being a slave, well. It hit a little too close to home.”

She nodded carefully. “I see. And rebellion seemed the best course of action?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Jesse grinned. His humor faded quickly, however, and when he turned to look her straight in the eye, the man looked utterly serious. “I don’t have a plan for what comes next. Things are going to start happening, soon, that I don’t think we’ll be able to avoid. But I swear to you, Shmi Skywalker, my brothers and I will do everything we can to keep you and your son safe.”

Stunned, she stared back at him for a good long while, debating asking _why,_ asking if he realized the Skywalker they’d followed like as not wasn’t related to her and Ani at all. But the conviction in front of her held the weight of guilt needed to be absolved, of a debt needing to be repaid. And in the face of that, well. What else could Shmi say?

“Thank you.”


	2. Akaanir par Mav'yc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first probing raid from Jabba’s mercenaries took less than twenty minutes to squash, thanks to Hardcase’s explosives and some inventive maneuvering from Domino Squad. 
> 
> His follow-up wasn’t another attack, but rather an envoy: a slimy looking pale twi’lek accompanied by a dozen dancing girls meant to be a present for “the new warlords of Mos Espa”. Oz and Ringo led a team to take out the guards; then they offered blasters to the freed girls, several of whom emptied entire clips into the envoy himself.

The days grew interesting after that night.

Within the cliffside palace at the edge of Mos Espa, former slaves went about old chores with newfound glee, and took on further tasks even more happily. They cleaned the bloodstains of their former masters off the floors and walls, cooked the best food to share with one another, and set about learning all their new friends could share about fighting: with bare hands, with weapons, and of course from behind anti-aircraft turrets. Only once did they have to use these new skills, to chase off a band of pirates that took offence to the doors remaining closed in their faces, and that victory filled the halls with even more pride.

Other citizens of the city took to the change in management cautiously, but without resistance. They merely needed one look at Jesse and his brothers, outfitted with scavenged armor they’d painted white and blue and bearing all manner of firearms, before meekly agreeing that everyone was better off without slavery in the city.

“It won’t stay like this forever,” one old being stated, handing out dinner to grateful brothers. “There’s still Kazzab in Mos Enti, and Jabba’s palace near Mos Eisley. They’ll be wondering, soon enough, if Gardulla being gone means there’s a power vacuum to be filled.”

“There isn’t,” one fierce boy insisted. “And if they try, we’ll give ‘em the same treatment!”

The old-timer clucked, filling his bowl with broth, but didn’t argue.

It did bear thinking about, however, and soon enough Jesse sought out those who’d been slaves in the other cities, pulling them together in a sort of planning committee. They debated what would likely happen, what they could do in response, what they might do beforehand. In the end, it came down to Shmi, who somehow found herself to be speaking as the collective voice of her people.

“We are free,” she told Jesse one night, Anakin and Kitster asleep with their heads resting on her outstretched legs. “We have a duty to share that freedom with all those we can.”

He nodded. “I’ll tell the others to be ready.”

-Vod’e-

The first probing raid from Jabba’s mercenaries took less than twenty minutes to squash, thanks to Hardcase’s explosives and some inventive maneuvering from Domino Squad.

His follow-up wasn’t another attack, but rather an envoy: a slimy looking pale twi’lek accompanied by a dozen dancing girls meant to be a present for “the new warlords of Mos Espa”. Oz and Ringo led a team to take out the guards; then they offered blasters to the freed girls, several of whom emptied entire clips into the envoy himself.

“We’re going to have to commit to some strikes of our own, before Jabba and Kazzab start working together to tag-team us,” Jesse muttered, looking over a map of Tatooine’s southern hemisphere.

Shmi hummed. “More likely that Kazzab would wait until we were fully engaged against Jabba, and then make a few small raids purely for his own benefit.”

“All the more reason to take one out quickly and then focus on the other.”

“Would fighting both at once not be possible?”

“It _could,_ but our forces would get stretched thin, and I’d rather not ask any more volunteers to fight than I have to. And if a third party should show up to attack whoever was left here...”

“I see your point. What if-”

A brother burst into their makeshift planning room, an excited look on his face. “Jesse! There’s ships coming! We’ve got reinforcements!”

Puzzled, the man straightened. “Reinforcements from where?”

“Mos Enti! They staged their own rebellion, and it didn’t go as clean as ours but a couple hundred of their people stole a bunch of passenger vessels! They’ll be here any minute!”

Both Jesse and Shmi raced from the room themselves, making a beeline for the comms tower.

By the end of that day, two hundred and thirty-seven former slaves joined the ranks of Mos Espa’s free peoples. Those wounded or sick were given space in the palace; others set about converting the homes of dead masters into barracks and storage space for the supplies they brought along.

By the end of the week, the number of newcomers doubled. Runaways from smaller homesteads and lesser settlements flowed into the city, coming by stolen speeder, eopie, or even on foot. Some brought herds of bantha and other beasts; some came with credits swiped from their masters, or food out of private lockers. One pair of sisters rode into the city with an entire harvest’s worth of water from the moisture farm they’d fled, and gifted it all to Shmi with the understanding it was meant to be shared. She laughed, and kissed their foreheads, and promised no one would go without.

-Vod'e-

Another envoy showed up after that, not sent by either of the Hutts, but from a group so unexpected it gave Jesse pause. “I thought they didn’t do much besides raid and cause trouble?”

Shmi tapped her fingers against her belt, staring through the security viewscreen at the group gathered a short distance from the city wall. They’d left their weapons behind, and two held small sealed pods in their hands. “It is said, that the earliest slaves on Tatooine were children stolen from the Tusken tribes.”

Jesse glanced at her, and tipped his head. “Anakin finished up Threepio’s leg strut connections the other day, didn’t he?”

They made for an odd trio, going out the gate: a woman with her loose woven shawl and linen skirt, a man in ramshackle armor painted white and blue and orange, and a droid that shuffled about on mismatched feet, motion relays buzzing in the early morning sun. If the tuskens cared, they made no mention of it.

The one in front, taller than the rest, took a step forward as Shmi stopped in front of him. He spoke a brief series of guttural words, followed by a long, drawn-out shout which ended in a harsh click, before holding out his pod. She accepted it, feeling the sensation of liquid sloshing inside.

“Ah, I do believe Lady Shmi, that this is the Rite of Recognition - Chief Izzmiku is making an offer of equal standing between your tribe and his own.”

“Thank you, Threepio,” she murmured. “What is the proper response I should give?”

“A simple bow for the moment, my lady. We must accept the gifts his tribe has to share, evaluate them, and return this evening with our own if we accept his offer. If we do not, Chief Izzmiku and his people shall see it as a declaration of hostility.”

Another of the tuskens stepped forward as Shmi bowed, holding out a pod to Jesse. He took it carefully, and the faint rattling within indicated nuts of some kind. With his bow, the group all raised their voices in a unified call, which echoed out across the desert like a song. Shmi felt it stir something in her bones, and in a moment of clarity, she opened her own mouth to add to the harmony.

It seemed to satisfy them. The group broke down into separate shouts and whoops, before retreating to the circle of their bantha mounts some distance away.

“...so what do we do with these, then?” Jesse asked. The sheer awkwardness in his voice made Shmi chuckle.

Throughout the rest of the day, she made a point to seek out anyone with experience concerning tuskens, both to listen to their stories and ask their position concerning the tribe’s offer. Most were understandably wary, but only a few outright thought it to be a bad idea, and there were more who encouraged her to accept.

“My da’s first homestead had a pact of equal standing with th’ local tuskens,” one twi’lek told her. “S’posed t’ be for trading, but it can turn t’ fighting alongside each other ‘gainst a common enemy in a pinch.”

They went back out that evening, Jesse carrying a jar full of clean water, Shmi bearing one of her own hand-woven bags filled with roots and tubers. Chief Izzmiku and his people accepted the return gifts, and Threepio guided her through fulfilling the rest of the Rite. But the time the suns were set and the three moons shining bright, a new pair of cuts lined the backs of Shmi’s hands, and tusken-made cloth bandaged them.

-Vod’e-

“I’m not sure if I should blame you or Anakin for this,” Jesse grumbled one day, dropping to sit next to Shmi at her usual spot inside the main hall.

She merely hummed, stitching together the final pieces of a new canvas bag. Around them, others came in to settle and wait out the midday heat, some bringing food, others pulling out games or projects like Shmi.

“You’re not even going to ask what I might be blaming you for?”

“I’m sure if it’s important, you’ll tell me.”

Jesse huffed. “It’s gotten into certain heads that we need a collective family name. And now certain mouths have spread around a particular idea for one, which most of my brothers seem to be warming to.”

“And what name would that be?”

“Tra’kemii.” Jesse very carefully didn’t look at her. “It’s a Mandalorian translation for Skywalker.”

Shmi paused, before pulling tight her last knot. “Just as well I’ve designed this, then.” And she turned her sewing project inside out.

Jesse first saw the circle of seven pieces, the broken chain that meant freedom on Tatooine. Then he recognized the white zig-zag marks outlined in orange, with a neat blue diamond embroidered in the very middle. He made a pained noise in the back of his throat when Shmi held the bag out to him.

“I plan to make more,” the woman said idly. “But it seemed fitting that the first should go to you. I hope the symbols are appropriate?”

“...yeah,” Jesse eventually managed to say. “Yeah, they are. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Could- would you make something else for me? Not, not a bag or anything, just on a scrap of cloth.” 

Shmi paused in putting away her needle and threads, and Jesse took that as permission to swipe a quick symbol onto the grit accumulated on the floor. The curved lines were unfamiliar to her, but clearly meant something important to him. “Yes, I could do that. Just on a scrap?”

“Yeah. Something to tuck inside my armor. It’s... this is the symbol my captain always painted on his helmet,” Jesse explained quietly.

“Your captain who didn’t arrive with you.”

“Right.” Sighing, the man tipped his head back to lean against the wall. “It’s weird, isn’t it? We’ve been here over a month now, and I keep expecting him to turn up any day.”

She hummed, tracing a finger along the lines of the symbol herself. “No, not weird. Especially as you don’t know where he ended up; it’s entirely possible he will track you all down and show up at our gate.”

“He’ll be angry with me if he does,” Jesse mumbled. “I almost killed him and the commander.”

“Deliberately?”

“No!”

Another hum. “And does he know that?”

“...I think so.”

Shmi nodded, and nudged his arm with her shoulder. “Well then, I expect he’ll be glad to see you. That’s how brothers are, after all.”

-Vod’e-

Halfway across the galaxy, Rex opened his eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> akaanir par mav’yc - to fight for freedom
> 
> Sorry for the delay in updating, folks - had an unexpected death in the family, and, well. Life's been a tad tumultuous in the weeks since. But hey, I'm clinging to the silver lining of having self-published my first novel! Gran would've been really proud if she'd lived long enough to see it happen.
> 
> I should be back again next week with Rex's chapter, provided nothing else happens to delay my finishing it, fingers crossed. Wish me luck!  
> -Tri


	3. Yaim'la

“You are not eating, Captain.”

Mouth twitching into a grin in spite of himself, the man lowered his bowl and spoon. “I apologize, Ahseki. Too many thoughts.”

The togruta woman hummed, before leaning closer to poke his forehead. “Thoughts, they remain up here. Food, it goes in lower!”

Chuckling, Rex agreed with her, and made a better attempt at getting down some of his stew. The humble woman truly was an amazing cook, easily adapting her recipes to something he _could_ eat, and it would be the height of rudeness not to consume her efforts.

A few minutes later, high-pitched shrieking outside the house heralded the arrival of Ahseki’s daughters. One figure that matched her mother’s amber skin charged headlong into the woman, skinny arms wrapping around her neck as the child babbled nonsense. The second, smaller, more russet colored toddler bypassed Ahseki completely, choosing to flop dramatically into Rex’s lap with a squeal.

“Whoa there, ‘Soka,” Rex grinned, lifting his bowl out of range. “I’m already in trouble for not eating your mother’s cooking fast enough, don’t go spilling it on the both of us!”

Unable to interpret his words as anything more than muffled buzzing in her undeveloped montrals, Ahsoka nonetheless beamed up at him and giggled. Shaking his head, Rex kept hold of the bowl with one hand and brought the other down to tickle her. Giggles turned to playful growls, as the toddler tried batting his fingers away, and when that failed, _chomping._ At one point, little teeth did actually manage to nip his skin, causing Rex to stifle a yelp and pull his hand away. Ahseki nonetheless saw, and laughed herself.

“What was it you said your friend called his togruta student?” She asked. “Snaps?”

“Snips, yes,” the man grumbled with exaggerated irritation, shaking his hand out. “But that was more because of her sarcastic comments than anything else.”

He saw Ahseki pause and silently mouth the word ‘sarcastic’, before her expression cleared with understanding. It was fortunate the woman who’d let him into her home spoke Basic as well as she did, but even then, the odd word or expression still threw her for a loop.

Bored without her mother’s attention, the older girl, Ahveka, wandered closer to Rex. She wasn’t quite as willing to fall on him as Ahsoka, but didn’t mind standing within arm’s reach in order to clap both hands around her little sister’s bare foot.

Ahsoka promptly sat straight up with a shriek, and tried to scramble around in order to tackle the other girl. Ahveka’s response was to grab _both_ feet, and push them higher into the air, laughing. She yipped when Rex simply poked her side, instantly abandoning her sister in order to run back to Ahseki, who’d put a hand over her mouth to try and hold back the snickering.

Rex rolled his eyes, despite his grin. “Well, it’s nice to know I’m at least _someone’s_ favorite around here.” He let Ahsoka seize his hand and drag it close enough to hug.

“Oh, yes,” Ahseki agreed, stroking her older daughter’s lekku to ease the pouting. “She likes you better than anyone else.” After a pause, the woman added, “Will you take her when you leave, or wait for the One Who Seeks?”

He blinked. “What?”

“Will you take her with you to your Temple? I had expected to keep Ahsoka until the Seeking this summer, but she likes you, and I do not know if she would like whoever comes later nearly as well.”

Another blink, before Rex sighed. “Ahseki, I’ve told you I’m not a Jedi.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “You know the ways, the Temple, you speak of the others as your Clan - perhaps you do not have the Seeking Senses or a burning sword, but you _are_ of them, as Ahsoka is meant to be.”

He sighed a second time, longer, and more sadly. “I know she’s _supposed_ to be. I just don’t know if I’m the right person to set her on that road.” The toddler seemed to sense his change in mood, because she clung to his hand even harder, tiny fingers wrapped all the way around his own. Rex finally set aside his bowl in order to stroke her lekku in the same way he’d seen Ahseki do.

The woman herself hummed. “Decide by tomorrow afternoon. That is the latest you can leave to reach the shuttle going to Shakkah.”

He nodded, not looking up from Ahsoka’s best attempt to claim his hand as her personal property.

-Vod’e-

_Good soldiers follow orders- he lifted his blasters, aimed them at the traitor- she was wearing lightweight armor, she was small in a mere scrap of a shirt, she was grown with white lightsabers- blue eyes widened at him, sabers snapped to life, too late- execute Order Sixty-Six!_

Muffled wailing woke Rex with a start.

It took him a moment to realize the crying wasn’t part of his nightmare, and then the man scrambled free of his hammock, bare feet barely touching the ground as he raced to the other end of the house. Ahseki beat him there, of course, but she needed to hold the scared Ahveka with one hand even as she tried to comfort Ahsoka with the other.

Rex didn’t hesitate to scoop the wailing toddler straight out of her blanket nest, gently pinning her flailing limbs in order to hum right beside her soft montrals. It seemed to do the trick, because she did, gradually, calm down. When her sobs were reduced to sniffles, Ahsoka pulled her hands free - one went around Rex’s neck as tightly as she could manage, and the other...

...the other reached up, to pat at the side of his head, directly over a spot that made the man go cold.

Whatever mysterious Force-nonsense bore responsibility for taking Rex from his bed on Yavin IV and kicking him more than three decades into the past, _also_ had given the man the body of his ten year old self: cropped blonde hair, full range of motion, and a decided lack of scars. Didn’t mean he couldn’t recall _exactly_ where the bio-chip’s removal left its mark.

And Ahsoka’s tiny hand rested on the very spot.

-Vod’e-

“I’m sorry you couldn’t keep her a little longer,” Rex apologized sincerely, securing a pack to his chest just big enough to hold a two year old togruta. “But if she’s dreaming about things that haven’t happened yet... that needs to be addressed sooner rather than later.”

“I understand,” Ahseki replied, giving her younger daughter’s lekku one final stroke. She then handed the dozing toddler over, and Rex slid her into the pack, tying the straps in such a way that held Ahsoka snug against him without pinching. Around them, other members of Ahseki’s clan gathered, watching with mixed expressions of sadness and joy. One of their own was setting off to become a Jedi, a great hunter, and they looked forward to her future victories even as they mourned her loss from their own ranks.

Ahveka shifted beside her mother’s feet, humming with the awareness of something happening despite not knowing what. Rex crouched beside her for a moment, to let the little girl pat clumsily at both his shoulder and Ahsoka’s, as good a farewell as they were likely to get.

“You will keep her safe, on your journey,” Ahseki said as he stood once more.

“And every journey after,” he promised. “The Jedi have rules about limited contact, but I’d be happy to send you messages about her.”

The woman considered that, before nodding. “At least until she is old enough to return for her Akul hunt.”

“Of course. Goodbye, Ahseki. And thank you, for letting a strange human stay in your home.”

That made her crack a smile. “Well, what else could I do when Ahsoka led you to us out of the grasses, with nothing but your clothes and name? Goodbye, Captain.”

A few of the other adults murmured farewells to Rex as he left the village compound, hunters with whom he’d sparred, parents he’d offered to babysit for. Three weeks in the midst of the togruta clan meant he felt... oddly bereft, walking along the road by himself.

That unpleasant feeling only lasted until Ahsoka fully woke up, though, and then Rex needed to dedicate a fair amount of attention to keeping her entertained, and not using the Force to try and undo the straps holding her to his chest.

-Vod’e-

“Alright, ‘Soka, decision time. Where are we headed?”

The walk to a larger town, the shuttle ride to Shakkah’s spaceport - those were easy, straight forward steps. But heading off of Shilli, picking whether to make for Coruscant and the Temple, or seeking passage elsewhere... Rex grimaced, staring at the listing of ships looking for an extra hand or two on their upcoming trips.

Ahsoka simply giggled, kicking her feet back and forth. Some flicker of motion seemed to catch her curious gaze, because the toddler pointed towards the bottom of the screen and babbled a stream of nonsense. Rex followed the direction of her chubby finger.

_The Chelik-ta, C-class freight hauler, bound for the Arkanis Sector, Outer Rim. Seeking extra handler for live cargo; prior experience preferred, apply to Chelii Kol-depuan for details._ A docking bay number followed the description, along with a departure time for later in the day. Something in the back of Rex’s mind grabbed onto the included name, though he couldn’t figure out why it seemed familiar. Ahsoka giggled again.

“Well,” Rex huffed. “I guess that’s good enough for me.”

He took a brief detour to trade some bright-colored bead strands for their lunch, and then headed in the direction of the Chelik-ta.

It didn’t look like much, when they arrived: simply a decent sized freighter with fading paint and scarred patches on the hull. When Rex looked a little closer, however, he picked out some modified gun turrets, a small row of disguised escape pods, and along the front bow a series of etched symbols he _knew_ he recognized. Ahsoka clapped her hands together and squealed happily as they approached, so with any luck, the broken circle, colored circles, and stylized claws came from someplace good rather than bad.

The ramp lowered a few moments after he banged his fist against the hull, allowing a dark-skinned woman with intricately braided hair to poke her head down, frowning. She blinked upon seeing Ahsoka.

“Hi there,” Rex greeted before she could say anything. “Saw your ad on the list of ship openings. Don’t suppose there’s still room for an experienced freight hand and his commander? I promise we work cheap.”

The frown quirked up into a disbelieving smile as the woman looked him up and down. “Suuure, I think we could make enough space for two more. Had your commander long, Mister...?”

“Tano,” he answered. “Rex Tano. And this is Ahsoka; she’s been with me a good while now.”

“Ebra Redmoon, captain of the Chelik-ta. You handled live cargo before, Tano?”

“Does wrangling a legion of little brothers count?” He grinned as she gave a dry snort. “I’ve worked with some different animal types - most of them in the nasty to handle category, but I’m also a quick study for anything new I encounter, and I promise I’m stronger than I look.”

Redmoon hummed, coming a little further down the ramp, hands on her hips. “So does that mean you really came for the job, or to find Kol-depuan?” Her accent rolled with the word, and a button clicked in the back of Rex’s memories.

“Just because I wasn’t looking, doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be averse to finding,” he said slowly, mentally reviewing an evening with his general that involved a fair amount of alcohol and lots of rambling in a language Rex barely understood - and years later, understanding only a bit more when the next Skywalker felt like reminiscing. “I take it you must be Chelii?”

“I was, once,” the woman replied, tilting her head. “And now I find others who are the same. We’ll be leaving for Tatooine tonight, if you’re still interested. You and you commander,” she added, glancing down at Ahsoka.

“I think we are.”

-Vod’e-

“Hm.”

Jesse glanced up. “Something wrong?”

“No, just... odd. Redmoon is coming in with another group of runaways tonight,” Shmi answered him, still frowning at her datapad. “And she normally sends an advance request for members of the same species to be present in case translation is necessary. But, this is the first time she’s asking for one of the Tra’kemiise to be waiting as well.”

The man felt his pulse skip a beat. “Did she say why?”

“No, I’m afraid not.” She glanced over at him, and one look at Jesse’s expression made a corner of her mouth curl upwards. “I take it you’ve spontaneously developed plans for this evening.”

He huffed, grinning as well. “As long as nothing else comes up, anyway. I’m starting to regret being the senior brother around...”

“Well,” Shmi murmured, returning to her reports of arrivals and requested expansions, “Perhaps you won’t be much longer.”

-Vod’e-

Ironically, Rex’s joke about experience at wrangling his younger brothers wound up being more accurate than expected, seeing as Ebra Redmoon’s “live cargo” turned out to be nearly twenty runaway slaves seeking sanctuary on Tatooine. Ahsoka made herself right at home with the handful of children, which automatically set Rex up as the ship’s unofficial babysitter, seeing as he alone of the various adults absolutely refused to let the younglings out of his sight. Two twi’leks girls, a zeltron boy, a human child, and a tiny fluff of a cathar toddler found him to be a remarkably patient jungle gym.

Crossing half the length of the galaxy took several days, even on a straight run down the hyperlanes, which gave Rex ample time to develop a backstory for himself: best friends with a togruta woman for many years, whom he’d lost contact with after she announced a trip home. Going to look for her, and finding only little Ahsoka in her place, who he decided to take into his own care rather than leaving with the local clan. “Maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea,” he admitted to Ebra, late one night cycle in the ship’s kitchen. “But I look at her eyes, and I can’t- I can’t leave her behind.”

The older human huffed at him. “Of course not. Life goes quick and change comes fast, so you hold on to what you have for as long as you can.”

He blinked. “Huh. I’m more used to hearing people say you should be ready to let go of your attachments.”

“Well, yes, that too. When your time is up, there’s no getting it back. When a toy breaks, when a person leaves, when a story ends - you can’t keep clinging to what was. _That’s_ when you have to let go, and let yourself move on, to see what comes next for you to hold onto instead.” Ahsoka chose that moment to wander into the kitchen, steps unsteady as she yawned. Two little hands lifted up towards Rex, and he didn’t hesitate before crouching to scoop her up. Ebra’s smile went soft as he stood back up, toddler curled into his chest. “See? You already know what you have. So for the Greatmother’s sake, do _not_ apologize for holding her close.”

“Is it really that simple, though?” He asked quietly. “When she would’ve been well looked after? Without risk or fear about the days to come?”

“It _is_ that simple, Rex. Because there’s _always risk,_ no matter how safe a village or ship seems. But we learn to live with it, and with that fear, because joy and light are worth every struggle to achieve.”

“But-”

“If you’d left her behind, could you honestly say your every waking thought wouldn’t be spent fretting over her well-being? That you wouldn’t be filled with regret and the grief of letting go too soon?”

Rex didn’t respond to that. He didn’t need to.

Ebra clapped him on the shoulder, and gently booped Ahsoka’s nose, before slipping out of the kitchen. “Mm,” the toddler grumbled, face scrunching up at the unexpected contact. Rex chuckled, adjusting so her head rested directly beneath his chin. Then he hummed a lullaby of her mother’s, holding steady until his charge fell asleep.

-Vod’e-

They arrived at the city of Mos Espa shortly after sunset, binary suns just disappearing below the horizon. Rex let Ahsoka perch on his shoulders, hands curled around her tiny feet, and waited until the former slaves disembarked to carefully exit the ship himself. The various children waved, being carried or led away by their various relatives and guardians, making Rex smile. He looked forward to seeing how they all adjusted to having proper open space for running around with their games.

One of the twi’leks they’d arrived with suddenly moved, revealing another figure waiting by the landing pad. Ahsoka spotted him first, shrieking as she rapidly patted Rex’s head with one hand and pointing with the other. He followed the direction of the chubby finger, eyes widening when they landed on painted armor, and familiar face.

“Well,” Rex managed to force out, when he walked up to the other man. “Guess this means I’m not the only one who’s come back.”

“Not by a long-shot,” Jesse replied through his tears. “I- I am _so sorry,_ Rex-”

“It’s alright, vod.” He caught his brother around the neck, tapping their foreheads together. “I know. It’s alright.”

They stayed like that for a while, until Ahsoka started squirming. She managed to wiggle herself halfway off of Rex’s shoulders, and rather than risk a fall he pulled her down to deposit in Jesse’s arms. Pleased, the little togruta beamed at his startled expression, babbling something incomprehensible. Cautiously, Jesse lifted a hand to poke at her cheek. That got a pout, and caused Ahsoka to push herself higher and hide her face against his neck.

“Right,” the man murmured, carefully readjusting to safely hold her in place. “Right. So. I’ll need to send a couple of calls to get everyone together, but you’d probably better come meet Shmi before then... And don’t be surprised if Anakin and Kitster mob you at some point, some of the vod’e have been telling stories.”

“Good ones, I hope.” Jesse smirked, and Rex groaned. “The wall on Geonosis?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve been insisting you landed in style.”

“Hn.”

-Vod’e-

“Captain,” the woman said, eyes shining brightly even if her smile remained small. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”

“Likewise, Lady Skywalker.”

“Call me Shmi, please.” When Rex clasped hands with her, surprisingly strong arms pulled him into a warm hug. “We are all family here, after all.”

Beyond them, Jesse held Ahsoka up for their brothers to cheer over, Anakin and Kister and other children caught up in the excitement even if they didn’t completely understand the heavy emotions running rampant. But in that moment, Rex focused only on the external warmth of Shmi’s welcoming embrace, and the internal warmth of that word:

_Family._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaim'la: familiar, comfortable, a sense of Home  
> Tra'kemii: Skywalker
> 
> (From the amazing Fialleril's slave language, Amatakka)  
> Chelik-ta: a safe house  
> Chelii: runaway  
> Kol-depuan: unfettered, unchained, a slave no more  
> Ebra: laughter

**Author's Note:**

> Projor Nari - Next Move  
> Adiik - child, age 3 to 13  
> Vod - brother
> 
> ALRIGHT, before anybody says a word about Su Cuy'gar, there WILL be a follow-up with the 212th. At the moment I'm calling it in my head "five times Cody found himself about to break Qui-Gon Jinn's nose, and one time he literally got beaten to the punch". We'll have more in it than that, of course, but it ought to make quite a few people happy for the meantime.
> 
> Now, we have two more chapters for this particular fic, and then I gotta see which characters the muse next decides to work with. I'm thinking Bly for certain, Ponds and his boys, the Wolfpack of course, and the unit under Commander Grey and Captain Styles which I always think of as the 705th - plus a couple I'm keeping as a surprise for now. And at the very end of all that, there'll be a sort of epilogue piece that finally explains *how* all the vod'e got shoved back to such particular instances in time, which I sincerely doubt anyone will see coming >:3
> 
> But IN THE IMMEDIATE FUTURE, guess who is gonna publish her first novel this week!!! I gotta make the final formatting tweaks and get my proofreader to hurry up and finish, BUT IT'S FINALLY GONNA HAPPEN 8D
> 
> As always, I look forward to all your lovely comments - thanks for reading, folks!  
> -Tri


End file.
